


afternoon tea and holly berry

by Michie_the_artist



Series: home for christmas series [2]
Category: Boy Meets World, Girl Meets World
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babysitting, Best Friends, Boys In Love, Candles, Canon Era, Canon Rewrite, Christmas, During Canon, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay, Home for Christmas, Jack is good with kids, Jeric - Freeform, Little Sisters, M/M, Pining, Rain, Roommates, Siblings, Tea Parties, jack and eric were basically boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28546143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michie_the_artist/pseuds/Michie_the_artist
Summary: There’s a loud thud from upstairs, followed by a grunt and the sound of a door slamming. Morgan, balancing a tray with items stacked precariously, comes running down. She crouches to place her things on the floor, stands and brushes her clothes, and declares, “It’s tea time!”———Jack and Eric are left home alone with Morgan for an afternoon and a tea party, mild sibling shenanigans, and gratuitous flirtation ensure. (i suck at descriptions but please give this a shot lol)
Relationships: Jack Hunter/Eric Matthews (Boy Meets World)
Series: home for christmas series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092275
Comments: 17
Kudos: 89





	afternoon tea and holly berry

**Author's Note:**

> hi! thank u so much for clicking! hope you enjoy this (admittedly very long) fic!

“Eric!”

Eric rolls over, smooshing his face into his pillows. “What?” he groans, loud enough for his mom to hear from downstairs, but still muffled by the pillow fabric.

“Come down here, please,” she yells, the impatience in her voice just audible enough for Eric to know he’d better not let her yell for him again. 

He’s up within seconds of her reply, pulling on his socks as he hops around the room. He gives the room a once-over before he leaves, and that’s when he notices that Cory’s bed is empty. _Where did Jack go?_

As he runs downstairs, the thought bounces around in his brain, and he thinks about how he’s never known Jack to be a necessarily early riser, especially not during breaks from school. He wonders if Jack had simply left the house altogether, but when he steps down from the dark shadow of the stairwell he sees Jack sitting on the couch next to Morgan, holding a cup of steaming tea. He smiles when Jack clinks cups with Morgan.

“Nice to finally see you,” Mrs. Matthews says. “I made you some tea.”

“Oh, thanks.” Eric’s eyes meet Jack’s, who winks.

He sits down on the armrest of the chair next to Jack, leaning in to whisper, “Missed you this morning. For a second there, I thought you might have left.”

Jack turns his head to face Eric, and he’s so close that Eric can see every freckle dusting his cheeks and nose, and he gets distracted for a second by his eyelashes. “Sorry to make you worry, Eric,” he says, voice low, a noticeably flirty edge bleeding into the words. “I thought I’d help your mother with breakfast, be a good guest, ya know?”

“Oh, gotcha. You know, you don’t have to do that— be like, a ‘good guest’ or anything like that.” 

Jack lifts his cup to his lips, stares at Eric over the rim. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave you a note next time.”

Eric rolls his eyes, but sudden lightness that settles in his core calls his bluff, and he quickly looks away from Jack, his eyes darting to his mother, who comes into the room with a cup of tea for Eric.

“So, Eric. Do you have any particular plans for today?”

Eric raises a brow at his mother. “No?”

“Oh, well, I was just wondering if you and Jack were going to be around today.”

“Why wouldn't we be? I’m here to spend time with y’all, and Jack has nowhere else to be, that’s why I brought him.” Eric dips his tongue into his cup of tea, but quickly retreats due to the temperature. 

“Well that’s good news!” 

“Why?” Eric asks, narrowing his eyes. 

“Well, I need someone to stay here with Morgan while I go out—” Eric notices the coat draped over Mrs. Matthews right arms, tucked against her body; he notes her shoes waiting by the door and purse at her feet. “— and I know Cory already left to go spend the day with Topanga’s family, so you’re my last option.”

“I see,” Eric says. “And you want to leave Jack and me with Weasel while you go off to do… what exactly?”

Mrs Matthews shoots him a look, and then very pointedly looks between the christmas tree and Morgan, who is occupied with one of her dolls. When Eric only blinks at his mother, Jack leans over and whispers, “To get her Christmas presents, Eric.”

“Ohhh, got it. He winks, poorly, at his mother, who sighs, clearly exasperated. 

“Just don’t burn my house down, Eric. We’ll only be gone a few hours.” 

“No worries mom!” Eric says, raising his cup of tea to his moth only to wretch it back and yell, “ouch! hot!!” 

Mrs. Matthews, somehow, is not comforted by Eric’s words; she turns to Jack with pleading eyes. 

“Mrs. Matthews, I promise to keep Morgan and Eric out of trouble. Have fun on your day out.” 

“Thank you, Jack.” Mrs Matthews stops to hug Morgan, and as she walks to the door, she ruffles Eric’s hair. “Be good.”

When the door closes, Eric sets his cup down on the side table and Morgan immediately takes off, her little feet stamping against the stairs and the floor upstairs; the ceiling shakes and Jack stares up at it in wonder. 

“How can such a tiny person make that much noise?” he asks aloud. 

“Meet Morgan, the little weasel terrorizing our house.” Eric says, wincing, when she yells in response to his comment.

“What are you saying about me, Eric?”

“Nothing! What are you doing?”

There’s a loud thud from upstairs, followed by a grunt and the sound of a door slamming. Morgan, balancing a tray with items stacked precariously, comes running down. She crouches to place her things on the floor, stands and brushes her clothes, and declares, “It’s tea time!”

Jack, who is holding his empty cup of tea from earlier, stares at Morgan, incredulous. “Wait, didn't we already—“ 

“That doesn’t count!” Morgan declares, unpacking her tea set. “This is a _proper_ tea party, where we can gossip and sip elegantly!” 

Jack chuckles, and he looks to Eric with an “is she serious?” kind of expression. Eric simply shakes his head, stands to sit on the floor with Morgan.

“Oh, Eric, dah-ling, before you sit down,” she says, holding her hand up to stop him, “will you be a dear and fetch us a candle from the kitchen? It’s awfully dim today!”

Beside her, Jack nods, adding “Oh yeah, definitely. The rain has made the state of this day most dreadful, so please hurry, Eric.”

Eric shoots him a look and Jack grins back, pleased with himself and the situation altogether. Eric is once again very much regretting bringing him home.

“Anything else, _Queen_ Morgan?” he asks, sarcastically, turning his attention back to the tyrannical child popping off the top of a bright pink tea pot. 

She replies without looking at him, occupied instead with her tea set. “Fetch me a plate of cookies! No tea time is complete without delectables.”

When he doesn’t move, Morgan waves him off with a curt “That will be all,” and Eric is tempted to go eat the cookies himself and bring her the crumbs. But he doesn’t. He shoots Jack a look (‘do you see what I have to deal with?’) and leaves, turning back to face Jack and Morgan at the last moment to stick his tongue out at his little sister (he isn’t sure, but Eric thinks he hears Jack laugh). 

Eric swivels on his heel to take in the kitchen, the table near the door, the stairs leading to the bedrooms, the back door leading to the yard. It’s familiar but it’s also weirdly foreign; the layout of the room is a distant memory, the particulars completely foggy. He never thought that a year away from home would do that to his memory. 

He tries to rack his brain and remember where his mom leaves the candles; he has a particularly strong sense that she keeps them in a cabinet or something; at the very least he’s sure there will be a box of candles under the sink. He starts there, moves around soap containers and plastic bags and small strange smelling buckets with questionable liquids, but to no avail. He does find a phallic shaped statue tucked behind the pipes, and he lets out a surprised huff at how much it actually looks like a dick upon further inspection. He makes a mental note to show it to Cory, who he’s sure will get a kick out of it. He doesn’t think of showing it to Jack (he actually does, but it’s more an intrusive thought that he quickly pushes to the back of his brain).

He checks the cabinet next to the stove, in the closet under the stairs, and even on top of the fridge. Nothing. He throws himself against the wall, shoulder to the wall, arms crossed and brow furrowed in frustration. 

At this point, he can’t even think of any other places for the candles to be stashed— the room is open and simple, and besides the sink, there aren’t many dark places to tuck valuables, or in this case, cheap candles. 

In lieu of any serious inkling or lead, Eric sets to assembling Morgan’s plate of cookies. He feels a twinge of bitterness as he reaches up to grab the cookies from the snack cabinet. Morgan is always this bossy, tea time aside, and this “order” shouldn’t bother him. But then he wonders if Morgan, who like Cory, would be very pleased to embarrass Eric (though her methods are very different than Cory’s), sent him off to fetch her cookies and candle in order to stall, to have Jack alone long enough to feed him lies and embarrassingly stretched truths. 

As he lifts the completed plate of chocolate chips and a single oatmeal raisin cookie, he feels further emboldened in his theory. A candle should not be this difficult to find— _maybe she hid it on purpose. Maybe mom moved them from the kitchen, and Morgan sent me in here to get one, knowing I would be able to find it in here._

Suddenly Eric gets the urge to check in his parents room, just to test his theory, even if to prove his hypothesis improbable. He places the plate down on the counter and runs, as quietly as he can, up the stairs to where his parents room waits at the end of the staircase. He twists the knob and slips into the room, eyes scanning the space. And then he sees it, the tip of a stout, crate-like box. like the kind they use in groceries stores to display fruits and vegetables in the produce section. He slides it out, and there are the fifteen of so candles he’d been searching for all this time. He grabs one, without looking at the label, and not-so-gently shoves the box back under the bed. The candles clink as they knock into one another, but Eric is out the door and running so fast he’s skipping steps on his way down before he even registers the sound. He scoops up the plate of cookies so his hand is under the plate, the way waiters hold them in movies and shows. 

As he makes his way out of the kitchen, Eric slows, taking the time to breathe and to think of things to say to his little sister who seems to have purposely sent him on an impossible mission. As he opens the door, he lands on one, a good zinger to throw that little scoundrel’s way. 

But then Eric stops. 

He stands in the doorway from the kitchen, candle in one hand and Morgan’s plate of cookies in the other, mouth falling opening slightly. _What the_ —

In the center of the living room, the coffee table and the couch pushed back to make room, Jack is sitting cross-legged across from Morgan fake-sipping a cup of “tea” (it’s water in a plastic cup). 

Eric watches Jack hold out his cup for more “tea”, holding his breath without even knowing it— any hopes of chewing Morgan go out along with the sense to take a fucking breath. 

“Thank you, Morgan,” Jack says, setting his cup down into his lap. “You’re a lovely hostess.” 

And Morgan is beaming. “Thank you! I’m glad you liked your tea. I’m also very grateful for your presence here today, I never get to do this.”

“Corey’s not a big fan of afternoon tea?”

“Not particularly. But it’s okay! Now that you and Eric are here we can do tea time every afternoon, if you’d like.”

“Eric likes tea time?” Jack asks, smiling and raising a brow as he glances up at Eric.

Morgan nods. “It’s his favorite!” She turns around to grin at Eric. “Isn’t that right Eric?”

“Uh, yeah. Totally,” he says with a nervous giggle, suddenly very aware of Jack looking at him, of Jack’s grin. “Tea time is the best time as far as I’m concerned.” 

“It’s settled, then!” Morgan declares, standing to collect her tea set. “Tomorrow, the three of us will have tea. Hopefully it will be sunny tomorrow so we can enjoy the pretty sky.”

Jack laughs softly to himself, and Eric can’t help but smile, too, his happiness contagious. He stays where he is, fingers gripping the candle, eyes fixed on Jack sitting across the room. He almost doesn’t notice when Morgan stomps up to him to claim her cookies. 

She takes a bite of one in front of him, and she frowns. “Next time, please make sure these are warm, Eric. No one likes cold cookies.” 

Eric looks down at her, caught between disbelief and amusement. “Ah— okay, Morgan. I’m sor—” 

“Also, please be present for tomorrow’s tea time,” she continues, cutting him off. Behind her, Jack stifles a laugh and mouths a quick ‘sorry’ when Eric meets his eyes. “I expect you to be there the whole time so that Jack and I might enjoy your company.”

Suddenly, Eric remembers the thing he wanted to say to Morgan, to call her out for her little stunt, which he now knows was actually both malicious and meant to occupy him long enough to allow her to get her hooks into Jack. But before he can say anything, Morgan does a cross between a bow and a curtsy, walks over to collect her tray with her tea set and her plate of cookies balanced on it and swiftly disappears, wordlessly, upstairs. Eric is left blinking, mouth slightly agape.

When Eric hear her door click upstairs, he snaps out of it, and his eyes meet Jack’s and the two collapse into quiet laughter. Jack shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, grinning all the while. “That sister of yours sure is something.”

“Yeah,” Eric says, bringing his other hand up to cup the candle, fingers tightening their grip around it. The flame flickers between his hands, and Eric looks down at it to avoid looking at Jack. To avoid thinking about how good Jack is with his sister and how fucking adorable that is. 

It doesn’t work. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, suddenly, the words slotting into the awkward silence stretched between them. “Play with Morgan, I mean. Have tea with her. I know she’s a lot.”

“What? No, Morgan is great. I don’t mind at all,” Jack insists as he stands, waving away Eric’s words. “It’s actually really fun.”

He knows he shouldn’t be, but Eric is sort of shocked; he doesn’t know what to say in response. “Oh,” is all he manages, his face heating up as he looks back down at the flame.

He knows he shouldn’t be so flustered by the fact that Jack likes his sister, that he isn’t embarrassed by tea time or her current obsession with being ‘proper’ and formal. He knows it’s simple human decency to be nice to children, but _fuck_ if it isn’t also so goddamn attractive, so fucking sweet..

He sees Jack sitting there on the floor with his little sister, being an absolute sweetheart drinking her “tea”, and the feeling that creeps up on him is much deeper than simply wanting to kiss Jack or sleep with him, much more imperative. He wants to be the one Jack is excited to come home to, wants to be there for him during shitty times, wants to take care of him when he’s sick, _fuck_ , he wants to watch Jack raise a child and be so loving with that kid, the most understanding, caring, perfect parent.

And after all of that, it finally dawns on him: the slow yet sweeping realization that he’s in love with Jack. It’s so obvious— he knows that— and he hates himself for it.

He grips the candle harder; the slightly uncomfortable, tingling warmth in his fingers brings him out of his head. Jack is standing where he was sitting minutes before, running a hand through his hair and yawning. _He’s so cute_. As if on cue, as if Eric has said his secret musing out loud, Jack looks at Eric and winks, scrunching up his nose and pursing his lips for a brief second. It makes his stomach clench, and Eric is unsure if it feels flirty because he wants it to be or because it actually is. 

Jack looks at the candle and walks over towards Eric, not slow enough to be saunter, but it’s a little less determined than a stride. As he nears, Eric lets his eyes flit up to Jack’s, brown locking on brown. He can feel his pupil dilate, feel his eyes widen against his will. He really hopes it’s not obvious to Jack, but when Jack gets so close that they’d be touching if Eric rocked forward on his heels only slightly, he worries that it is painfully so.

“You know,” Jack starts, voice just above a whisper. “I think it’s sweet that you hang out with your sister.”

“Oh, uh, it’s— it’s not, yeah, it’s no big,“ he stutters, voice trailing off, once again very aware of how close Jack is; this time, the tension actually hurts him, and the desire to lean in, to close the gap...

Jack beats him to it though. He leans in, tilts his face towards the candle gripped with white knuckles and pressed against Eric’s body, and blows out the flame with a quick, soundless concentrated breath. He looks back up at Eric. 

“You’re a good brother, Eric.” 

And he waits for a beat, eyes searching Eric’s, who starts to wonder if Jack might do it, might reach up and close the gap, and suddenly his heart is pounding in his throat. 

And then Jack looks at Eric’s lips.

And Eric almost drops the candle.

But he doesn’t, because suddenly, Jack backs off, standing up straight and running a hand through his hair like nothing happened, like he wasn’t maybe about to kiss Eric.

“Well,” he says, “I’m kinda hungry, so I think I’ll go eat something.”

“Okay,” Eric says.

One second, two seconds go by of complete silence.

Jack rubs the back of his neck. “You’re, uh, blocking the door to the kitchen, so…”

“Oh, right. Yeah, sorry,” Eric mumbles as he sidesteps out of the way, looking down at the flameless wick and it’s faint wisps of smoke.

Jack briefly glances back at Eric, but he doesn’t stop or stay; he goes into the kitchen, leaving the door to creak slowly and come to its close behind him.

And Eric stands, alone, in the living room, head loud with thoughts, stomach twisted with anxiety and disappointment, fingers numb from gripping the candle. He looks down at the blackened wick, at the thin, colorless wisps rising from it, floating up around his head in a haze of Holly Berry, a scent he vaguely associates with childhood Christmases in his memory. As he looks down at the softened wax in the glass in his hands, he sighs. 

It hasn’t even really begun yet, but he has the feeling that this Christmas is going to be a memorable one. 

He really hopes heartbreak isn’t one of the reasons.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hold everyone is having a lovely day, and if not, take a breath, you are loved <3
> 
> [check me out if you get a chance](https://michietheartist.carrd.co/#) <3
> 
> Keep reading, keep dreaming!  
> 🖤Michie


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